Fight Dirty (Black Rose Kisses 1)

“Piper’s a sweet kid,” I offer, not sure what else to say.

“She is,” he agrees. “She likes you.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t say anything. He doesn’t move, flicking a glance at my bike before looking back at me.

“So,” he says, and it’s obvious he’s been waiting to bring this up. “Why were you following me? What were you hoping to find?”

That serious look is back on his face, and I waffle a bit. I really don’t want to admit that I was hoping following him would lead me to some dirt on the Black Rose gang that I could use against them. I may not be the best spy in the world, but even I know that would be a very bad idea.

I could make excuses or come up with a lie, but instead, I let my mind settle on the urge I’ve had since I first saw him with Piper in his arms.

I give in to it, taking a step forward and leaning up to kiss him right on the mouth.

There’s a second of surprise on his part. I can feel it in the way he stiffens under my touch. But then he’s kissing me back, one hand going around the back of my neck to pull me in closer. His fingers tangle in my hair, which is windblown from riding the bike, and he bends me backward a little as he deepens the kiss.

I wrap my arms around him, letting my fingers play over the broad muscles of his back through his soft t-shirt. As our tongues slide against each other, he pulls me closer against his body. His hands stray down my back and come just shy of cupping my ass, a slow tease that has him grinning against my lips when I make an impatient noise.

As always, it’s so easy to get distracted by these men. I only wanted to change the subject, and now here I am, lost in his fucking kiss and wanting him to touch me more.

“You’re trouble, did you know that, Hurricane?” he murmurs, his warm breath ghosting over my lips.

He’s not the first person to say that about me, and I’m sure he won’t be the last.

But the truth is, he’s trouble too.

19

I’m not sure what the reason is, but over the next few days, the guys start to be a little more lax in their watch over me. They’re wrapped up in their own shit, busy and distracted, and they don’t seem to care what I do all that much.

Maybe it’s them starting to trust me, and I can’t help but think about Rory and how I followed him.

He could’ve been furious at me for following him, especially since he seems to keep Piper and Jen separate from his work shit. But instead, he invited me in. He trusted me with his family, and maybe that was the beginning of him trusting me more in general.

No matter what the cause, I plan to take advantage of it. If they give me more freedom of movement, maybe I can get a chance to listen in on more conversations like the one I heard at the training gym. Maybe I can leave the house more without them tracking my every damn move.

Testing my theory that I’ve become more like a fourth roommate than a complete prisoner, I invite Scarlett to come over one afternoon after school, not telling the guys until the last minute.

They’re all gathered in the kitchen, talking and drinking coffee while Rory makes sandwiches for lunch, and I walk in, stepping past Sloan to open the fridge and take out a bottle of water.

“Oh,” I say, going for casual. “Scarlett’s coming over later.”

I keep my back to them, pretending to rummage in the fridge for something else while I wait for their answer.

“Okay,” Levi says, sounding like he doesn’t care one way or another.

“Two beautiful ladies in the house?” Rory asks, and I don’t need to see his face to know he’s got some smug smile on it. “Be still my heart.”

I roll my eyes at that.

Sloan just grunts, and I take that to mean he doesn’t care either and emerge from the fridge with my water bottle in hand. The whole conversation definitely goes easier than I thought it would, and I take that to mean my freedoms are more open than they were before.

The doorbell rings half an hour later, and I go to answer the door before one of the guys can get to it.

“Hey, hot stuff.” Scarlett grins and throws herself at me in a hug.

“Hey, Scar.”

I bury my face in her hair for a second, pleased as always to smell the familiar scent of her shampoo. She’s been using the same one since we were in high school, something inexpensive that makes her hair soft and floral-scented, and it always makes me feel close to her when I smell it. With my dad still out of the picture for the time being, having Scarlett with me is the next best thing.